


To Teacher, With Love

by nvaleintern (orphan_account)



Category: DC Cinematic Universe RPF, Real Person Fiction, Superman - All Media Types, The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015) RPF
Genre: @ celebsconfesss on twitter its your accounts fault lmao, Barebacking, Couch Sex, Exhibitionism, F/M, Felching, High School, Kissing, M/M, Masturbation, Older Man/Younger Man, Older Man/Younger Woman, Panties, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Professor Henry Cavill, Public Display of Affection, Reader-Insert, Riding, Seduction, Teacher-Student Relationship, i hope yall like it, its not really underage cus its senior year but better tag it before anyone says smthng
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-03
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-12 18:53:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7945423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/nvaleintern
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>High School classes can be boring; having a hot teacher certainly helps.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading my fic! Just a friendly reminder that you don't need a AO3 Account in order to leave Kudos or Comments on a fic you liked! Enjoy!

Mister Cavill first came to your school two years ago. Back then he was the new English lit teacher, so young and innocent.

English was always one of your favourite subjects but when Cavill took over it really got interesting. Not only because he is major eye-candy, with his tight-fitted shirts and even tighter pants, but also because of the way he explained stuff to you. The author's intentions, their play on words and the way they bent language to their will. Every single word that came out of Mr. Cavill's mouth was like gospel, no matter how dull the material was. With each class, not only did the topics get more interesting, but so did Mr. Cavill.

Every time he wrote things like "Very good" or "Clever!" on the margin of your essay you caught yourself blushing with pride, cheeks turning the colour of his red pen. Each compliment left you wanting more, motivating you to try your best, his class becoming the center of your attention as the rest of school faded, considered nothing but a distraction in-between English. In hindsight, maybe it was a fixation, an obsession over Henry, but it was worth having.

You don't recall when exactly your mind shifted from adoration to lust, but soon enough you found yourself under the covers, thinking what it would feel like to lay in bed with Mr.Cavill instead all alone. To feel his chest hair, that always stuck out of his shirts teasingly, against your soft skin as he'd cradle you in his strong arms.

Eventually, the sexual frustration was too much to handle, and even though parts of you knew how wrong it was and that the chances were infinitesimal, you decided it was about time to take some risks. Otherwise his classes would be too much to bear day in and day out. With him standing there, with a three-day stubble, or too-long curls, or even buzz-cut once.

No one would have suspected you doing the things he drove you to, and you had to admit sometimes you even surprised yourself.

It started out pretty harmlessly. You'd let your skirt ride up under your desk, showing some skin, always just under the school regulations to not get into trouble for stupid dress-codes. Luckily, you claimed a seat right at the front early on in the semester, so Mr.Cavill had a perfect view if he decided to look. And look he did.

At first you thought it was only your hopeful imagination playing tricks on you. Certainly, a man like Mr.Cavill would be more chivalrous than that. But when it happened again and again, his stares getting longer, his eyes creeping up to look you in the eyes, you knew. So you grew bolder, crossing and uncrossing your legs to give him a good look at your panties, wearing too-tight ones to outline your pussy lips.

Admittedly, it was a bit uncomfortable to wear, and the thought of other people seeing you like this made your heart flutter with anxiety, but seeing the reaction on Mr.Cavill's face, loosening his tie or swallowing hard, was worth it.

The next step were Mr.Cavill's voluntary written assignments for extra credit. Though the extra credit you had in mind was slightly different than others.

You were allowed to write a paper about any book of your choice, as long as it wasn't a modern book. And so you wrote, trying to convey what you really wanted through paper. Writing about older and younger relationships, referencing Lolita and Nabokov, mentioning taboos – one of which _accidentally_ happened to be between a teacher having affairs with his students and how, despite the wrongness of it all, it made for some good times.

The first paper was the start of your game.

His little comments showed he knew how to keep playing.

They were harmless things at first, complimenting your writing, telling you it's well-structured and detailed work. Later adding seemingly innocuous lines like "Such relationships are outdated and frowned upon, though not by all" basically telling you not to give up. And you didn't.

Unperturbed, you showed him how much you meant what you wrote.

A week after your last handed-in assignment, you sat down in your usual spot, opening your legs again. This time you thought about Henry, as you recently learned was his name, sliding his fingers down your stomach, under the lace of your panties, pressing his hand down. Pushing them inside.

When he noticed how soaking wet your panties were, clinging to your tingling pussy, he got flustered, losing his train of thought. "Uh- I-," he stammered, "Right, class, just read the next twenty pages before we discuss them."

As he gave back the essays that day, his hand lingered on yours just a little too long. It felt warm and heavy on top of yours and you were sure if he kept it on there a little longer your heart would burst out of your chest.

At home, you lay down in bed, leafing through the essay, examining every single remark Henry left. The one next to the sentence: _"And with that portrayal, the author tries to imply that by letting go of his inhibitions and social norms, and finally allowing himself to fall for her, the man will ultimately grow and allow the girl to grow with him."_ was _"Very clever. Definitely some food for thought. Discuss it in detail at my house?"_

You held your breath, reading the sentence over and over. Was it really happening? After weeks, months of senior year was his reserve finally crumbling?

The next day in class he was practically staring you down the whole time. So the day after. Until Friday finally came.

*

Today. Clean and ready, wearing his favourite pair of panties – the ones that started it all – you drive over to his house. He lives just out of town in a big house with his dog Kal. You know that because he threw a BBQ for the whole class once, to celebrate your last year in high school.

Your heart is pounding as you walk up his porch and knock on the door, waiting. Those seconds between you standing there and him opening the door are excruciating, and doubt starts to seep in, but once he opens the door, all of that is gone.

He's wearing a tight flannel and his usual jeans (that, in your opinion, define his ass just perfectly).

"Hello, Mr.Cavill," you say, smiling shyly.  
When he puts a hand on your shoulder to welcome you inside, it takes everything not to cave in right then and there. "Just call me Henry. Wanna drink something?"

"Water's okay," you say, walking over to the living room.

You notice that he changed his couch. The old, red one is now replaced by smooth, black leather that feels cold against your thighs when you sit down.

Henry hands you the glass and sits down next to you, his thigh touching yours, arm hanging dangerously close to your shoulder. You swallow hard, the cold drink feeling good on your tongue.

He's looking you up and down, slowly, before he covers he rubs at his eyes with one hand and laughs half-heartedly.

Panic starts to creep back in. "What's wrong?," you ask, laughing a nervous laugh yourself to ease the tension.

"It's just so bizarre," he says, looking at you again, those hazel eyes locked with yours. "I shouldn't be feeling what I feel. You're my student, for gods sake." That last sentence comes out more serious. You can feel a part of him is trying to find a way out of this. It's now or never. You set the glass on the table.

Your other hand, you drop onto his thigh, rubbing at the firm and thick flesh. He let's out a shaky breath as you hike it up his leg slowly, until you reach his crotch.

His eyes are glazed over slightly as he looks down on what you're doing. As he watches you feel for his bulge. Henry's biting his lip, trying to stay focused. "I- You should-"

"I should what, professor?," you ask him, leaned in so close that he can probably feel your warm breath against his skin. The smell of his cologne hangs heavy in the air and you breathe in sharply.

"-keep going," he mumbles, hands gripping you by the hips, pulling you on top of him.

Before you know it you're sitting on his lap, grinding against him as he kisses your neck. His tongue licks it's way up to your chin, to the corner of your mouth, licking his way inside. It feels hot against your own, and you relish the taste of him inside of you.

"You were always my favourite," he murmurs, pulling on your bottom lip, close to drawing blood. "Looking so good in those panties." He pushes further down your throat, moaning into you.

With one hand fisting his hair, you start to unbutton his shirt, desperate to catch a feel of his hairy chest.

It tickles your soft hands as you open more and more buttons. You want to take it off, to take in all of Henry's beauty, but more than that, you want to feel him inside.

"I want to fuck you so bad," he moans, sucking on your neck, leaving behind a mark. Claiming you as his. "I want to make you cum."

His bulge is already pressed hard against your ass, throbbing uncomfortably.

You sit up just enough to unzip his pants and take out his thick cock. Henry's breath hitches when you wrap your hand around his shaft, pulling down the foreskin to feel his precum. "Yes baby," he growls into your ear, pushing you down his shaft.

 _Condom_ , you think. _We forgot a condom._ Then again, you are on the pill and his dick feels so good stretching you apart, so warm- "You're safe?," you ask anyway, because you have to.

He grips you by the hips, stopping you in your tracks and looking at you seriously. "Of course I am, baby. I would never harm you." He plants a soft kiss on your lips, and all the tension leaves just like that.

"Just making sure," you say, smiling.

His first thrust sends a ripple-wave through you. It's like a wake-up call for every single cell in your body, incomparable to the lonely feel of your fingers.

Eager for more, you start to fuck yourself onto his cock, riding him harder and faster with each passing moment. "Fuck me," you moan, kissing his cheek, lapping at his earlobe, hands running through his chest hair.

It doesn't take long for you to come, with Henry's dick deep inside of you, his moans filling your ears and the anticipation of weeks of planning. He rubs your clit, fucking up and up, making you cum with his name on your lips, slumping onto him as he keeps on rutting into you.

"You feel so good baby," he groans, picking up momentum, before he starts shaking under you, his orgasm so strong. “Fuck, I'm gonna cum. Yes, _fuck,_ ” he growls. Warm cum fills you up, shot after shot, trickling out of you, down his shaft.

There will probably be a stain left on his couch. And on his jeans, too. But right now all his focus is on you, as he kisses you lazily, all tongue and lips. "You were so good, baby," he admits, wrapping his strong arms around you and holding you close. "Want to just lay here for a bit or do you want to hop into the shower?"

A strand of hair sticks to his sweat-sheened forehead. You put it back to it's rightful place. "A shower sounds nice," you nuzzle your head into his neck, kissing it softly. "But I like my seat right now."

He chuckles. "Couch it is then."  
"I'm glad my writing was so persuasive," you tell him, eyes closed, listening to the beat of his heart.

"It sure is. I should give you an A for that."

You stroke his soft cock, sucking some of the cum from your fingers. "I _definitely_ give you an A for _that._ "

"In the shower, I'll work for that A*."

You smile, "Can't wait."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Male POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading my fic! Just a friendly reminder that you don't need a AO3 Account in order to leave Kudos on a fic you liked! Enjoy!

Mister Cavill first came to your school two years ago. Back then he was the new English lit teacher, so young and innocent.

English was always one of your favourite subjects but when Cavill took over it really got interesting. Not only because he is major eye-candy, with his tight-fitted shirts and even tighter pants, but also because of the way he explained stuff to you. The author's intentions, their play on words and the way they bent language to their will. Every single word that came out of Mr. Cavill's mouth was like gospel, no matter how dull the material was. With each class, not only did the topics get more interesting, but so did Mr. Cavill.

Every time he wrote things like "Very good" or "Clever!" on the margin of your essay you caught yourself blushing with pride, cheeks turning the colour of his red pen. Each compliment left you wanting more, motivating you to try your best, his class becoming the center of your attention as the rest of school faded, considered nothing but a distraction in-between English. In hindsight, maybe it was a fixation, an obsession over Henry, but it was worth having.

You don't recall when exactly your mind shifted from adoration to lust, but soon enough you found yourself under the covers, thinking what it would feel like to lay in bed with Mr.Cavill instead all alone. To feel his chest hair, that always stuck out of his shirts teasingly, against your soft skin as he'd cradle you in his strong arms.

Eventually, the sexual frustration was too much to handle, and even though parts of you knew how wrong it was and that the chances were infinitesimal, you decided it was about time to take some risks. Otherwise his classes would be too much to bear day in and day out. With him standing there, with a three-day stubble, or too-long curls, or even buzz-cut once.

No one would have suspected you doing the things he drove you to, and you had to admit sometimes you even surprised yourself.

It started out pretty harmlessly. You'd let your shorts ride up under your desk, showing some skin. Luckily, you claimed a seat right at the front early on in the semester, so Mr.Cavill had a perfect view if he decided to look. And look he did.

At first you thought it was only your hopeful imagination playing tricks on you. Certainly, a man like Mr.Cavill would be more chivalrous than that. But when it happened again and again, his stares getting longer, his eyes creeping up to look you in the eyes, you knew. So you grew bolder, crossing and uncrossing your legs, going commando to give him a good look at the outline of your dick and balls, the cockhead pressing against the fabric.

Admittedly, it was a bit uncomfortable to not wear any underwear, and the thought of other people seeing you like this made your heart flutter with anxiety, but seeing the reaction on Mr.Cavill's face, loosening his tie or swallowing hard, was worth it.

The next step were Mr.Cavill's voluntary written assignments for extra credit. Though the extra credit you had in mind was slightly different than others.

You were allowed to write a paper about any book of your choice, as long as it wasn't a modern book. And so you wrote, trying to convey what you really wanted through paper. Writing about older and younger relationships, referencing Lolita and Nabokov, mentioning taboos – one of which _accidentally_ happened to be about stories from ancient Greece, where relationships between older men and younger guys were considered an educational step into adulthood.

The first paper was the start of your game.

His little comments showed he knew how to keep playing.

They were harmless things at first, complimenting your writing, telling you it's well-structured and detailed work. Later adding seemingly innocuous lines like "Such relationships are outdated and frowned upon, though not by all" basically telling you not to give up. And you didn't.

Unperturbed, you showed him how much you meant what you wrote.

A week after your last handed-in assignment, you sat down in your usual spot, opening your legs again. This time you thought about Henry, as you recently learned was his name, sliding his fingers down your stomach, under the hem of your shorts, pressing his hand down. Rubbing them over your balls down to the entrance of your hole.

When he noticed the bulge, clinging to your gray sweatshorts, he got flustered, losing his train of thought. "Uh- I-," he stammered, "Right, class, just read the next twenty pages before we discuss them."

As he gave back the essays that day, his hand lingered on yours just a little too long. It felt warm and heavy on top of yours and you were sure if he kept it on there a little longer your heart would burst out of your chest.

At home, you lay down in bed, leafing through the essay, examining every single remark Henry left. The one next to the sentence: _"And with that portrayal, the author tries to imply that by letting go of his inhibitions and social norms, and finally allowing himself to fall for her, the man will ultimately grow and allow the boy to grow with him."_ was _"Very clever. Definitely some food for thought. Discuss it in detail at my house?"_

You held your breath, reading the sentence over and over. Was it really happening? After weeks, months of senior year was his reserve finally crumbling?

The next day in class he was practically staring you down the whole time. So the day after. Until Friday finally came.

*

Today. Clean, prepped and ready, wearing nothing but shorts – the ones that started it all – you drive over to his house. He lives just out of town in a big house with his dog Kal. You know that because he threw a BBQ for the whole class once, to celebrate your last year in high school.

Your heart is pounding as you walk up his porch and knock on the door, waiting. Those seconds between you standing there and him opening the door are excruciating, and doubt starts to seep in, but once he opens the door, all of that is gone.

He's wearing a tight flannel and his usual jeans (that, in your opinion, define his ass just perfectly).

"Hello, Mr.Cavill," you say, smiling shyly.  
When he puts a hand on your shoulder to welcome you inside, it takes everything not to cave in right then and there. "Just call me Henry. Wanna drink something?"

"Water's okay," you say, walking over to the living room.

You notice that he changed his couch. The old, red one is now replaced by smooth, black leather that feels cold against your thighs when you sit down.

Henry hands you the glass and sits down next to you, his thigh touching yours, arm hanging dangerously close to your shoulder. You swallow hard, the cold drink feeling good on your tongue.

He's looking you up and down, slowly, before he covers he rubs at his eyes with one hand and laughs half-heartedly.

Panic starts to creep back in. "What's wrong?," you ask, laughing a nervous laugh yourself to ease the tension.

"It's just so bizarre," he says, looking at you again, those hazel eyes locked with yours. "I shouldn't be feeling what I feel. You're my student, for gods sake." That last sentence comes out more serious. You can feel a part of him is trying to find a way out of this. It's now or never. You set the glass on the table.

Your other hand, you drop onto his thigh, rubbing at the firm and thick flesh. He let's out a shaky breath as you hike it up his leg slowly, until you reach his crotch.

His eyes are glazed over slightly as he looks down on what you're doing. As he watches you feel for his bulge. Henry's biting his lip, trying to stay focused. "I- You should-"

"I should what, professor?," you ask him, leaned in so close that he can probably feel your warm breath against his skin. The smell of his cologne hangs heavy in the air and you breathe in sharply.

"-keep going," he mumbles, hands gripping you by the hips, pulling you on top of him.

Before you know it you're sitting on his lap, grinding against him as he kisses your neck. His tongue licks it's way up to your chin, to the corner of your mouth, licking his way inside. It feels hot against your own, and you relish the taste of him inside of you.

"You were always my favourite," he murmurs, pulling on your bottom lip, close to drawing blood. "Looking so good in those pants." He pushes further down your throat, moaning into you.

With one hand fisting his hair, you start to unbutton his shirt, desperate to catch a feel of his hairy chest.

It tickles your soft hands as you open more and more buttons. You want to take it off, to take in all of Henry's beauty, but more than that, you want to feel him inside.

"I want to fuck you so bad," he moans, sucking on your neck, leaving behind a mark. Claiming you as his. "I want to make you cum."

His bulge is already pressed hard against your ass, throbbing uncomfortably.

You sit up just enough to unzip his pants, pull down yours and take out his thick cock. Henry's breath hitches when you wrap your hand around his shaft, pulling down the foreskin to feel his precum. "Yes baby," he growls into your ear, pushing you down his shaft.

 _Condom_ , you think, biting down hard at the burning sensation of him spreading you open . _We forgot a condom._ Then again his dick feels so good stretching you apart, so warm- "You're safe?," you ask anyway, because you have to.

He grips you by the hips, stopping you in your tracks and looking at you seriously. "Of course I am, baby. I would never harm you." He plants a soft kiss on your lips, and all the tension leaves just like that.

"Just making sure," you say, smiling.

His first thrust sends a ripple-wave through you, making your hard dick twitch. It's like a wake-up call for every single cell in your body, incomparable to the lonely feel of your fingers.

Eager for more, you start to fuck yourself onto his cock, riding him harder and faster with each passing moment, your cock slapping his stomach. "Fuck me," you moan, kissing his cheek, lapping at his earlobe, hands running through his chest hair.

It doesn't take long for you to come, with Henry's dick deep inside of you, his moans filling your ears and the anticipation of weeks of planning. He jerks your dick, fucking up and up, making you cum with his name on your lips. Some of your come hits his mouth, his chest.

“You fucker,” he grins, lapping up the droplets from his face and swallowing them. You lick up the rest, sharing some of it with Henry, as he sucks on your tongue, humming. “Mmmh.”

"You feel so good baby," he groans, picking up momentum, before he starts shaking under you,too, his orgasm so strong. “Fuck, I'm gonna cum. Yes, _fuck,_ ” he growls. Warm cum fills you up, shot after shot, trickling out of you, down his shaft as he digs his fingers into your shoulderblades.

There will probably be a stain left on his couch. And on his jeans, too. But right now all his focus is on you, as he kisses you lazily, all tongue and lips. "You were so good, baby," he admits, wrapping his strong arms around you and holding you close. "Want to just lay here for a bit or do you want to hop into the shower?"

A strand of hair sticks to his sweat-sheened forehead. You put it back to it's rightful place. "A shower sounds nice," you nuzzle your head into his neck, kissing it softly. "But I like my seat right now."

He chuckles. "Couch it is then."  
"I'm glad my writing was so persuasive," you tell him, eyes closed, listening to the beat of his heart.

"It sure is. I should give you an A for that."

You stroke his soft cock, sucking some of the cum from your fingers. "I _definitely_ give you an A for _that._ "

"In the shower, I'll work for that A*."

You smile, "Can't wait."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to submit prompts in my askbox at dogphood.tumblr.com  
> (sorry it took so long, I kinda forgot about the male chapter)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to hell for this, I know, but it's @ celebsconfesss (on twitter, y'all should follow) fault. Their account is just too good, lol.  
> Male chapter uploaded tomorrow. Y'all can leave some prompts at dogphood.tumblr.com, maybe some will inspire me to write more... (Ben Affleck would be fine too).
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: always use condoms kids, STDs and babies are a thing, I just chose not to write them in because as a literary choice. Carry on!


End file.
